While faith through struggles is a strong theme through By the Pond, my mother (though not mentioned much until the epilogue) would be the inspiration for the the theme of the book as a whole. Pictured to the right are my parents on their wedding day in the 1950s. Mom was a diagnosed schizophrenic. After my dad’s death when I was 6, my sister and I did not live with her. My dad’s mother (Gramma Peggy) had us and went to court 7 times and was finally given custody of us when I was seven. However, Mom would call and talk to me on the phone. Sometimes she was fine but others not so much. I know I was afraid of her, but I cannot remember all the reasons why. She could be very angry and violent. So, she would call and sometimes say things no child should hear. One day when I was 10, I yelled at her and hung-up the phone. She died in a nursing home 2004. As an adult I would go visit her and take her out when possible, but I could never really help her. When my struggles in the 90s came along, (though different than hers) I realized how frightening it must have for her to not have control of her thoughts and actions. My poetry helped me maintain that control and care for my children. My children never knew I struggled with anything until they became adults and I began to share it with them. My hope is that I can help others see there are positive and constructive ways to work through difficult times. Poetry is not everyone’s path to healing or moving forward (not all wounds completely heal), but there are a wealth of ways – as many ways as there are people. The hard part is that sometimes an artist just needs to say it and get it out. It can be unsettling to the audience. It can seem outrageous. I now call those poems of mine “poetic fiction.”

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About the Author

My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges.
All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college.
I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education.
Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.